Confession time: I am not yet a millennimama. Or perhaps a better way to put it is, I have not yet given birth to my Gen Alpha baby (sidenote: how did they get such a badass generational title?).
Don’t get me wrong, I am very much a millennial (the 90s were so great, amirite?), and I am very much on my way to being a mama. At 38 weeks pregnant, this little girl could arrive any day now. On the one hand, I would truly love to get off the couch without having to rock back and forth just to gain enough momentum to hurtle myself to my (swollen) feet. On the other hand, I’m super enjoying this prenatal disability leave the State of California is affording me and I’d reaaaaally like to use all of it up before she makes her grand entrance.
I’ve been very lucky in this pregnancy. It’s my first baby and forever the type-A, I like to read online forums and pick the brains of all my mama-friends to hear their experiences. But no matter how much you try to mentally prepare, pregnancy is a grab-bag of aches, pains and emotions and you never know what you’re going to get. While the extra girl-baby hormones kept me feeling underwhelmed by food for the first 25 weeks or so, I only threw up once, and I blame the fact that I took a prenatal pill on an empty stomach for that one. Sure I gagged upwards of 20 times a day, but I could still hold my food down. And yes, I was exhausted during the first trimester, but I was fortunate enough to be working from home and was able to take a couple power naps throughout the day to get me through.
The second trimester was the usual honeymoon period, filled with nursery decorating and buoyant daydreams of holding my little girl, braiding her hair, teaching her about my feminist idols, Dolly Parton and Cher. And even now, at the tail end of my third trimester, I’m not cursed with the worst of it. My exhaustion has returned and thanks to my newly-onset carpal tunnel, I cannot feel the last two digits of the fingers on my right hand, but I’m still able to move around. I’ve been keeping up my 30-min walks (semi-regularly at least) and courtesy of my vitamin-resistant anaemia, I am still able to fall asleep at the drop of a hat and get roughly 8 hours of sleep a night.
And yet, while it has all been well and good, I am antsy to reach that finish line. It’s baffling to me that I don’t know whether my little girl who I feel I know so well has my eyes or her fathers. How do I not know what she looks like? What will make her smile? If she’ll love the cat as much as we do? I’m ready to get to know her personality and find out what makes her her.
So I have started eating six dates a day. I am gulping down three cups of red raspberry leaf tea. I am even *considering* having sex to get this show on the road (I love my husband it’s just really awkward and hard at this stage, you guys). I am willing to give up 2 weeks of time off work to meet my little girl sooner–a true testament to a mother’s love.